Undisclosed: Stark Support
by The Batchild
Summary: The casts are off and it's time for Quinn to get a brace for her leg so she can get back to her life, to work. A phone call from Tony Stark changes her plans slightly, but what he's offering is too good to pass up. - Part 5 of Undisclosed Series


_December 28th, 2011  
_ _New York, New York—The Greenhouse_

"I hate this fucking thing. Get it off, get it off, get it—"

Mike Vaughn, Quinn's physical therapist, narrowed his eyes at her in an expression Quinn had become intimate with over the last six months. It was a silent reprimand of her impatience. The doctor was going as fast as he could in removing the cast from Quinn's left leg, the limb that had been nearly shattered back in June after a building had fallen on her. She'd been in one cast or another since June, with only a brief respite when they thought she was ready for a brace.

That hadn't gone well.

"Just another moment," said the doctor. He finished cutting through the hard white material, covered in doodles and sometimes-crude messages from Quinn's friends and family, and pulled the cast away, exposing Quinn's pale, thin leg. "There we go."

She sighed in relief, laid the palm of her hand on her thigh. Tears prickled her eyes.

Mike stepped in before she could move her leg too much herself. It was healed—the X-rays on the wall proved that—but Quinn had a tendency to push herself too far, too fast. "All right. Take it slow Quinn." His hands were warm on her newly exposed flesh as he guided her foot from the footstool to the floor, her knee bending for the first time since the cast had gone back on. He took her hands and helped her rise. "How does it feel?"

There were actual tears on Quinn's cheeks now. "Amazing. I mean, weak. If you let go, I may fall over, but oh my God, it feels so good to be standing. To feel the air on my leg. Knowing that was the last cast…"

Mike shared her grin. It had been a long six months. He'd put up with impatience and stubbornness from her, swearing and a few punches. Belligerence. Quinn had not done anything to make it easier on Mike, but he'd stood by her when many nurses had requested a change. He'd held up, weathered her moods. Every single one of them.

"You've done so well Quinn. I'm proud of you." He gave her hands a squeeze.

Quinn scrunched up her face. "Don't get all sappy on me now, Mike." She looked down at her legs, one pale and skinny, the other still pale but closer to her usual muscle tone. "We've got a lot of work to do," she added with a grimace.

Mike chuckled. "That we do. Come on, try and take a couple steps for me. Get some weight on that leg."

She didn't bother asking him why he wanted to start the next round of physical therapy right away. There was a lot of work to do and no time like the present. Quinn wanted to get back to SHIELD as soon as she possibly could. Even if she was just at a desk. She wanted to get back to work, to helping Coulson, to helping with the Avengers Initiative. Her physical therapy kept her occupied, but she was still restless a great deal of the time. Mike knew that. Mike wanted to help her get back to work.

She strongly suspected Mike, dedicated and stalwart as he was, might be getting a little sick of her.

Quinn took a deep breath and took a shaky step forward with her bad leg, shifted her weight to it slowly. Tried to walk like normal, but the instant her leg tried to take all her weight, her muscles began to shake, her knee felt like it'd give out at any second. But she pushed through it, swung her right leg forward so it could take her weight. She laughed. Mike laughed.

But she should have stopped there.

Her knee did give out when she tried to take another step. Sweat broke out over her body as she tried to catch herself and she screamed in frustration when she couldn't, when she had to rely on Mike.

"It's okay," he whispered as he helped her into the chair in the corner. "It's okay."

His voice was soothing and Quinn trusted him, but she should have been able to trust herself. She'd known her leg would be weak, that she still had a lot of work to do, but part of her had still hoped that maybe, maybe this part would be easier. Maybe she wouldn't have to fight to relearn how to do something as simple as walking.

A sob escaped her and she slammed a fist against the armrest of the chair.

Mike crouched in front of her, pushed her hair back from her face, using the motion to force her tawny eyes to meet his. "Quinn. Quinn, it's okay." His hands moved from her face to her leg and skillfully followed the limb from thigh to foot, making sure everything was still in the right place. "You're still in one piece. Let's get your brace on so I can see if we have to make any adjustments, and then you can get used to wearing it, okay?"

Quinn nodded. She wiped the tears from her cheeks angrily as she waited for Mike to return.

 _You can do this, you can do this, you can do this,_ she told herself. Her hands balled into fists on the arms of the chair. She repeated the mantra again and tried to recall the feelings of accomplishment and pride she'd had when her right leg was back to normal, when her left arm once again responded to her commands. When her back had no longer hurt regardless of what she was doing. _You can do this, you can do this, you can do this._

Mike returned, a leg brace draped over his shoulder. He knelt in front of Quinn once more and started velcroing the brace in place, first at the top of her thigh, then above her knee. Below her knee. Her ankle. The material was rough and cold on her bare skin. Quinn realized belatedly that, while she'd only worn pyjama shorts for months because of her cast, the brace would actually allow her to wear pants. She was strangely elated by the prospect. Mike checked each strap of the brace again, tightened them a bit, and then he took her hands and helped her to her feet again. He didn't let go.

"How does that feel?" he asked. His green eyes were on her leg, watching the brace closely for signs of pinching or sliding. "Any discomfort?"

Quinn inhaled a deep breath, exhaled slowly, calming herself so she could focus on the brace and its relation to her body. It felt weird, but it was new. She moved her leg a tiny fraction. It didn't pinch or pull. "I want to take another step," she said after a moment. "Just to make sure it doesn't hurt."

Mike nodded. She could tell by the crease in his brow that he wasn't crazy about the idea, but he just squeezed her hands and helped her take a shaky, terrifying step forward. Quinn clung to Mike's hands like they were a lifeline.

She survived the step, exhaled in relief, laughing. "It feels weird," she said, "but it doesn't hurt or pinch."

"Good."

"Is one step really a good demonstration though?"

"Not really," Mike said as he helped her sit. "But it's good to know it doesn't hurt to just wear it. You won't be going very far for a while."

"True." Quinn wiped a hand over her forehead. It came away drenched.

Noticing the sweat, the flush in her cheeks, and the slightly glazed look in her eyes, Mike squeezed her shoulder. "I'll go get Carmen so you can get cleaned up and get some rest."

Quinn nodded and mumbled a thank you as she sunk back into the chair. Carmen, her nurse, appeared promptly. She helped Quinn undress and bathe, and then got her into clean pyjamas so she could relax as she ate dinner. Carmen was kind but efficient and she took pains to get to know Quinn to make the proximity of their relationship easier to bear. She was never far away and Quinn had gotten used to her presence, used to her grey eyes and salt and pepper hair, braided down to the small of her back, used to the way she muttered in Spanish when she was frustrated or exasperated—usually with Quinn. She didn't really have a choice but to rely on Carmen, but the older woman made it easy for Quinn to trust her.

When Quinn was settled in her bed with her legs stretched out, the TV showing one of her favourite movies, and her dinner on the tray in front of her, her phone rang.

Normally, there were only about seven people who called Quinn: Agent Phil Coulson—her mentor, boss, and a sort of father—her adoptive parents Margret and Jared Nolan, or Agents Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton, Maria Hill, or Antoine Triplett, her friends and coworkers. The number displayed on her phone didn't belong to any of them though. It was an unknown number, though it was from New York.

Confused, Quinn muted the TV and then swiped her thumb across the screen to answer. "Hello?"

" _Hi. Can I assume I have the pleasure of speaking to Agent Quinn Scott?"_

She knew that voice immediately and rolled her eyes. "Hello, Mr. Stark."

Before the mission in Puente Antiguo that had put her in the hospital, Quinn and Coulson had been assigned to keep an eye on Tony Stark, confined to his Malibu mansion after a fairly epic meltdown and the theft/confiscation of one of his Iron Man suits by Colonel James Rhodes. Quinn had only been there for two days, but there had been an opportunity for her and Tony to bond over a shared family history. His father had been one of the principal scientists on Project Rebirth, the World War II SSR project that had created Captain America, and Quinn's biological great-grandfather, Colonel Chester Phillips, had been in charge of the same project.

She didn't think she'd made that much of an impression, but clearly something had led him to pick up the phone and dial her number.

How'd he gotten her number anyway?

Scratch that—he was Tony Stark. When it came to technology, he could do anything.

" _I heard some tragedy befell you in New Mexico?"_

"Uhm, yeah, six and a half months ago. A building fell on me."

" _Hm. I'd like to hear the whole story sometime, but that can wait. SHIELD sent your accident report over—"_

"What? Why?!" Quinn was immediately incensed, brain running through all the possible culprits. She settled on Coulson and made a mental note to call him after she'd hung up with Tony Stark. "Why would Coulson send you the report of my accident?"

" _Because I asked him to. He looked more dour than usual when I saw him the last time, so I asked him what was wrong and he told me what happened to you—said you were worried about your leg keeping you from your job."_ Tony coughed once, clearing his throat; Quinn heard paper being shuffled around. _"So I designed a brace. Or, I'm in the process of designing it. It'll be miles better than whatever generic piece of shit they've got for you now."_

There was a deep frown on Quinn's face. She could feel it, pulling at her lips, brow, at the corners of her eyes. She was confused and a little angry. There was some pain in her leg that wasn't doing anything to help the situation. "You're making me a leg brace."

" _Yup."_

"Uhm thanks. I guess."

" _It's no problem at all. I was bored. See you soon, Scottie."_

Quinn only had time to wonder how Tony had learned her nickname before he ended the call.

* * *

 _December 31st, 2011  
_ _New York, New York—The Greenhouse_

Christmas had been a relatively sombre affair for Quinn at The Greenhouse, and New Year's Eve wasn't going to be any different. The white-gold lights Coulson had strung around her room were still glowing, the boughs of pine and holly still filling the room with their spicy, comforting smells. There was a small tree in the corner that Quinn had decorated with her parents. With the main lights off, Quinn's room was lit with colour and warmth, and she had the gifts she'd received spread around to remind her of the people who loved her; she was wearing a sweater Clint's wife, Laura, had knit her. It was big enough that the sleeves hung past her hands. Just the way she liked it.

Despite everything, the holiday had lacked the normal warmth and joviality, and though Quinn loved Christmas, she hadn't felt the cheer this year. She had spent most of it trying not to sulk in bed. She still had a little time left at The Greenhouse, but she was getting sick of the same walls, the same few faces, the same… Just the sameness of the place. She wanted to be independent again, to start to find her way back to what her life had been like before Puente Antiguo.

Mike assured her she'd be able to get around on her own, with crutches, soon, but it wasn't soon enough. The ten minutes or so she could manage on her own were not enough.

She had been looking forward to getting a little drunk with Natasha and Clint on New Year's Eve, sharing their usual bottle of scotch, but they'd been called away suddenly on a mission and now Quinn was probably going to ring in 2012 by herself, scotchless.

 _Well_ , she mused, _I have an impending visit from Tony Stark to look forward to… And he usually has booze. Maybe he'll give me some._

Quinn sighed and sagged against her pillows, her tawny eyes dropping to the brace on her leg. The limb was pale and sickly-looking. Much thinner than it should be. And she already hated the brace—despite it being the thing helping her get back to normal—and the crutches propped against the wall beside her bed. The crutches bruised her arms and the brace was clunky and thick and heavy.

 _Maybe whatever Mr. Stark designs will be better. Well, I know it will be, but maybe I'll actually like it. I can dream._

She sighed again.

"Hey now, there's no reason to be so dour."

Quinn jumped, knocking the television remote onto the floor. "Shit—you shouldn't sneak up on people like that! What, were you just hanging out in the hall, waiting for the right moment to stick your head in?"

"Hello to you too."

She glared at the billionaire, who smiled warmly in return until the hostility left her expression, and picked up the remote, tossing it back onto the bed. Quinn sighed one more time and pressed the button to raise the top of her bed. Her leg had healed enough that Quinn could have gotten up, but she was still a little scared to walk, even though Mike had said she was improving rapidly and encouraged her to walk on her own around her room. She wanted to move, but she'd already had to go back into a cast once. She didn't want to do it again.

 _Can't risk it_ , she told herself. _Not for this._

"Hello, Mr. Stark."

"Please—call me Tony."

"Hello, Tony."

He unbuttoned his wool pea coat and sank gracefully into the armchair beside her bed, the one Coulson normally sat in, then unwound the scarf from his neck, letting it hang loosely. Underneath the long-sleeved shirt he was wearing beneath the coat, his arc reactor glowed, the blue-white light shining through his shirt. Quinn stared at it for a few seconds.

"Hello Agent Scott." Judging by the smirk on his face, Tony was stalling on purpose. Probably to annoy her. To amuse himself. Maybe he didn't even realize he was doing it.

 _Yeah, right._ She glared again and folded her arms over her chest. "Okay, enough of that—you said you were designing a brace?"

The smirk turned to an all-out grin and he whipped a tablet out of his pocket, scooting his chair closer to her bed as he did. His fingers flew across the screen for a few seconds and then he passed the device to her. "I've started manufacturing the first brace—it should be done when we get back," Tony added, looking at his watch.

"Back where?" Quinn asked as she flipped through the schematics of the leg brace. From what she could gather, it would be much slimmer and less bulky than the one she was currently wearing. It should hug her leg, be almost like a second skin. There were also eight extra pieces: ultra-fine pin-like things, about an inch long, pointing inward. She didn't really want to think about where those pins would go when she was wearing the thing. "Where are you going?"

" _We_ are going to Stark Tower," he informed her. "You need to try on the brace once it's completed so I can make adjustments, and then you need to walk around a bit in it so I can make sure it's good for long-term use."

"Uh…"

"Don't worry. Agent Coulson already cleared it with the staff in this… lovely place. You'll have excellent living conditions and care at Stark Tower for the next few days and your physical therapist can come with us if you'd like a familiar face."

"Uhm…" Quinn shook her head, having trouble processing everything. "Why are you doing this?"

Tony shrugged with one should, the picture of nonchalance. "I had some time, an unfinished project, and I can do something to help. Besides Scottie, I've never built a leg brace like this before, and you know I like to try new things."

Quinn narrowed her eyes, but Tony was smiling, so she relented and smiled back with only a small eye roll. "Well… thanks, I guess. Even if this is weird."

"Don't thank me until you're up and walking."

Tony pushed himself out of the chair and walked to the door. For a second, Quinn thought he was going to leave, but he just stuck his head into the hall and spoke to someone. When he came fully back into the room, Carmen and Mike were with him, along with another nurse who helped Quinn when Carmen wasn't on shift—Beth. She was younger and hadn't quite figured out the same effortless efficiency as Carmen, but she was friendly and as energetic as her hair was red.

"What are—are we leaving tonight?" Quinn asked as her nurses started gathering her things. She had her legs over the edge of the bed before Mike reached her and helped her stand. Quinn accepted his help without thinking about it. "It's late—"

"It's only 9:00 p.m." Tony wrapped his scarf around his neck and buttoned his coat. "We'll be settled in the tower before 2012 has arrived, and we can ring in the New Year properly."

Quinn started to protest—the whole situation was just too weird—but instead she inhaled a deep breath, let it out slow, and accepted Carmen's help in getting changed while Mike and Beth made sure nothing had been left behind.

* * *

 _December 31st, 2011  
_ _New York, New York—Stark Tower, Mr. Stark's Office_

"This is… quite the place you've got here," Quinn said, her tawny eyes roving around as she made her slow way to the couch facing out the wall of windows. Her crutches were loud where they hit the floor. Her brace creaked in the silence. A huge swath of New York was visible through the windows, lights shining, reflecting off a thin layer of snow. A few more flakes were falling and she knew the weather report was calling for more. It painted a beautiful picture and Quinn loved the snow. "What exactly are you going to fill it with?"

"Oh you know… offices, laboratories, storage—"

"Don't forget the rooms for staff and visitors," a new voice said. "And the Olympic-sized swimming pool."

Quinn turned to look over the back of the couch. Pepper Potts, Tony's former assistant, current girlfriend, and the CEO of Stark Industries. The redhead gave Quinn a warm smile which the SHIELD agent returned. Silently, Quinn watched Pepper and Tony kiss and exchange a few quiet words and private smiles, feeling like she was intruding, like a third wheel, and wondering why she'd been brought here on New Year's Eve. Surely a few more days wouldn't make a difference. Surely they would want to spend the usually romantic holiday together.

With a small huff, Quinn wormed her way deeper into the cushions and stared out at the city, a new, less physical ache joining the pain from her leg.

"Since the crews are still on holiday, Tony has nothing to do around the tower for the next week or so, and, for once, he has no other projects," Pepper said as she settled onto the couch beside Quinn, a glass of white wine in one hand. "I'm glad he's helping you."

"So he stays out of your hair?"

Pepper chuckled. "It should certainly allow me to get some paperwork done."

"What's your drink, Scottie?" Tony called from the bar at one side of the room.

She was getting used to him using her nickname. At the very least, it didn't sound as weird as it had the first time he'd used it. "As much scotch as you can spare. Maybe a couple ice cubes."

A moment later, the trio was settled on the couch, drinks in hand and a holographic display projecting a 3D model of the leg brace above the coffee table. Somewhere in the background, a television was broadcasting coverage of the New Year's celebrations in Times Square, but Quinn didn't really care. Until the countdown, none of it really mattered to her.

"You're telling me this thing will be hooked _into_ my body?" Quinn asked, staring at those eight extra pieces. "Why?"

Tony had placed his drink on the table in order the use both hands in his explanation, to adjust the holographic image. His eyes were shining with excitement; it was the same look Quinn had seen whenever he'd done a big announcement for a new piece of technology or a new program. "You'll wear the brace on your good leg and walk around for about fifteen minutes. That will calibrate the brace to your optimal movement."

Quinn drained her scotch, savoured the burn for a moment as he mind raced through the possibilities the brace would open up. If it worked. "So when I put it on my bad leg…"

"You'll need the crutches for a while at first, but as long as you exercise the leg—walk without the crutches for as long as you can each day—you should be able to get back to work much sooner than you would with just that thing." He gestured at the clunky thing she was wearing now. "That brace is just for support. It doesn't actually accelerate healing. Well, your leg will heal faster with that on—"

Quinn waved away the redundant explanation.

"Have you ever made something like this before?" Pepper asked. She'd listened to the whole conversation silently, her intelligent eyes shining as she followed the details better than Quinn ever could have.

"Not… really. I toyed with something similar when we started making prosthetic limbs, but I couldn't get that prototype to read movement and translate it properly. Many attempts, all failed, so I moved on until I figured out a way to get it to interface with the patient properly. And safely," he added, his face screwing up at some memory. "This brace is more just for fine-tuning and to calibrate it to Scottie's specific needs."

Quinn chuckled, though she felt a little weird knowing her accident had triggered something that could be so good for so many people. Without asking, Tony snagged her glass as he passed and returned it filled with more scotch. She took a few long sips, studying the projection of the brace again, her eyes narrowed on the sharp-looking pins. She was aware of Tony and Pepper talking to each other, but she wasn't paying attention. She was imagining what it would feel like to have those pins stuck in her leg.

She was so absorbed in thinking about the brace and her future with it that she didn't realize it was midnight until Tony tapped her on the head and handed her a flute of champagne with a smile. Tony, Pepper, and Quinn watched the city light up with fireworks when the countdown reached zero. Quinn tried not to watch as Tony and Pepper kissed at midnight.

 _I hope no buildings fall on me in 2012,_ Quinn mused.

* * *

 _January 1st, 2012  
_ _New York, New York—Stark Tower, Mr. Stark's Personal Workshop_

"See? The pins barley hurt."

Quinn gave Tony her best indignant look. In truth, it hadn't hurt that much to have the pins inserted into her good leg, but she was aware of them. Though, truthfully, she wasn't sure if could actually feel them or if she was imagining it. "So what now? I just walk around for a bit?"

"As normally as you can manage."

He helped Quinn climb off the workbench. Mike, who Quinn had insisted Tony call that morning, took Tony's place in front of her and started leading her slowly around the room; she wasn't about to get to know another physical therapist and it wasn't likely another physical therapist would like, or be able to stand, Quinn for long anyway. As Mike had so eloquently put it, she usually required a special sort of patience. Quinn tried not to wince as she and Mike made a slow circuit of the workshop.

"How's it feel?" Tony asked.

"Well, not great, but I think that might be because I'm wearing two braces right now and it is _super_ awkward." Quinn met Tony's gaze as he chuckled. "How long do I have to do this?"

Tony turned to one of the multitude of computer screens arrayed to his right, presumably the one displaying her vital signs, which were being transmitted via a device on her arm, and the readings from the brace itself. "I'll tell you when you can stop," he said, his voice taking on the tone it did whenever he was absorbed in something.

Quinn walked in silence for a few moments, trying to keep the small groans of discomfort low enough so that only Mike could hear. He squeezed her hands when she winced and gave her a small, reassuring smile. The pain started to increase, but Quinn pushed through it; she wanted the brace to work, she wanted it to do everything Tony said it would, and that would require her to suffer a bit more.

"Tell me more about your great-grandfather—Colonel Phillips?"

Quinn smiled at the question, grateful Tony recognized her need for distraction and that he was willing to indulge it. "Yeah, okay." She screwed up her face, made herself concentrate. "Uhm, he was the head of Project Rebirth, as you know."

"I know all the biographical details. Tell me something I don't know."

Despite her pain, Quinn snorted a laugh. "Not many people know he kept journals."

"I know that because you told me. Come on, Scottie."

She laughed again. Mike was walking backwards in front of her, his hands up and ready to catch her, but he wasn't holding her hands anymore. He wasn't guiding her. "He really loved food. He always mentioned when he got a good meal—something other than the crap army food—and described it in detail. And he spent a great many words complaining about the crap army food.

"But he loved his job. He loved what he did, and even though he had his doubts about it at the beginning, he became quite a champion for Project Rebirth. He lamented that it only ended up being used to create one super soldier, but he wasn't a fool. Once he saw what Captain America could do… he almost thought it was better that there was only one super soldier in the world." She took a deep breath and extended her hands for Mike to take once more. There was sweat on her brow, sliding down her cheeks, the back of her neck. She hurt. "The way he talks about Captain America… it was like he was half-afraid of him."

"Wouldn't you be?"

Quinn shot Tony another indignant look. "Have you seen a picture of him?"

Tony and Mike both laughed at that.

"But meeting someone like that, someone who is capable of everything he is, being around them… it might be a little unsettling. No matter how good-looking they are."

Quinn lapsed into silence as she recalled one of the photographs tucked into Colonel Phillips's journal, the one featuring her great-grandfather and Captain America studying a map. The intense look in the Captain's eyes, the rigid line of his jaw. She gave her head a small shake.

"He was frequently impressed by your father," she said to Tony, forcing her mind back to the topic at hand. She squeezed Mike's hands when a sharp wave of pain lanced through her leg.

"Impressed by his brilliance or his personal life?"

"Both, and not always impressed in the good way."

Tony snorted. "That sounds about par for the course. I can't imagine a serious man like your great-grandfather would get along well with someone like Dad."

"From the sounds of it, they got along okay as long as they focused on work. Anything more than that—or if Howard went off on some tangent—and Colonel Phillips lost his patience." Quinn's leg gave a twinge and she stumbled. "Please tell me I can stop walking now, Tony."

Hearing the alarm in her voice, Tony looked up and then back down at his computer. "Yeah—yes—sit down. Don't make it worse."

Mike muttered something about the crazy experiment already putting Quinn in danger of hurting herself more, and then helped her sit back on the workbench. He had to lift her part of the way, but once she was seated, he took a step back and let Tony take his place.

"So now what?" Quinn asked.

"I take this off and we put the brace on your bad leg. I need to make sure it receives and transmits the data properly, and it actually has an effect on your leg. And then, if there are any adjustments to be made, I'll make them."

"What if there's nothing that needs to be adjusted today but something happens down the line?"

Tony raised an eyebrow. "You'll call me and I'll fix it. You'll be able to monitor the outputs as well—I'll install it on your laptop, your phone—"

"You'll set me up and you've got my back. I've got it. Can we take this thing off now?"

Tony removed the brace, pulling the pins out slowly and attending the small wounds as soon as her leg was free. Some disinfectant and small Band-Aids later, he turned his attention to Quinn's bad leg and began attaching the brace. Minus one feature.

"You could have told me the pins weren't going to go in my bad leg!" Quinn barked.

The billionaire inventor just grinned. "What? And ruin my fun?"

She reached out to swat his shoulder, but Tony moved out of the way, still grinning. "Come on now, Scottie. This is a _pleasant_ surprise."

"Shouldn't have been a surprise at all," she muttered. Somewhere to Quinn's right, Mike laughed. "Shut up."

"Hey now," he said. "Don't take your anger out on me. _This_ is not in my job description. You can yell at me all you want when I'm making you walk laps around the room, but I'm here as a favour and I can laugh at you."

Quinn rolled her eyes, but Mike's steady grin and the mischievous sparkle in Tony's eyes soon wore her down until she cracked a grin. "All right then, get on with it."

After Tony got the brace in place, it needed to be tightened; the ultra-thin material of the brace didn't feel bulky when it was doubled over, and it would be easy to adjust as Quinn gained muscle mass back in her leg. The small disks along both sides of her leg that had once held the pins where were covered with a smooth metal case. They were pleasantly cool against her sweaty skin. When it was in place, Tony turned back to the computer and began calibrating the technological aspects of the device.

"Here," Mike said, passing Quinn a cup of water from the cooler in the corner. "Drink up."

She nodded her thanks and downed the cup quickly. Mike replaced it. "It feels weird," Quinn said, touching the top of the brace with her fingertips.

"Faint electrical current," Tony mumbled.

"I'm assuming it's supposed to do that?"

"It uses electrical impulses to make your muscles mimic those in your good leg. Stimulation where your natural impulses have weakened."

Quinn nodded and sipped her water. She understood the basic concept, which was good enough for her. Any deeper detail and she was likely to get confused; science had never been her strongest subject.

After a bit more fine-tuning, the brace was ready for testing, and Quinn was ready to move again, despite the dull ache in her legs and lower back.

Mike helped her off the workbench and their circuit began again.

But this time, this time, Quinn's body moved with an ease that shocked her. She wasn't back to normal, but it didn't feel like her leg was about to give out. It didn't take a monumental effort to take a few steps.

She knew Tony was good—great—at what he did, but this…

She hadn't expected such an improvement so immediately.

Eyes burning with unshed tears, Quinn pulled her hands free from Mike's grasp and crossed the workshop to where Tony stood, his sharp eyes roving across the multiple computer screens. She threw her arm around him, startling him.

"Thank you," she managed to say before the tears started to fall.

His body was tense, but after a brief hesitation, Tony returned the embrace and patted her awkwardly on the back. "No worries, Scottie," he said after a few beats of silence. "But don't push it. It'll take a bit to get used to and to adjust. Your leg will probably be in pain a lot of the time because of the accelerated—"

"I can handle pain," Quinn interjected.

"It'd be a good idea to keep your crutches for the first little while."

She looked at the crutches where they were propped against the wall and frowned. "Fine," she said with a sigh. And then she was beaming again. "I'm going to walk around some more."

And she started around the room, Mike at her side and Tony watching the computer.

* * *

 _January 2nd, 2012  
_ _New York, New York—Stark Tower, Guest Quarters_

Her leg was on fire.

It woke her from a deep slumber. Quinn sat up straight, the fire crawling up her back, her skin clammy. Her breaths came in shallow pants. She didn't have the breath to scream.

She twisted, meaning to reach for her crutches, her phone—something. The sheets wrapped around her legs and she pitched over the edge of the bed, landing with a loud thud on the floor. Tears burst to life as she landed on her side, her arm pinned painfully beneath her. The fire in her leg increased.

Her door banged open and then there were hands on her, lifting her, carrying her from the room. She didn't care who was carrying her or where they were taking her. Quinn curled up against the warm chest and tried to breathe, tried to find some modicum of calm in the middle of the storm. One of her hands curled around the soft t-shirt she was leaning against. She held on.

"Just hold on, Quinn."

That was Tony's voice, but he wasn't the one carrying her. His voice came from somewhere to her left, she thought, though she wasn't sure. That meant Mike was carrying her.

After another minute, Quinn's feverish body touched cold metal.

"It's her leg," Tony said. "It's locked. Every muscle flexed."

"What?"

"The electrical impulses from the brace must have triggered something…" Tony's fingers clicked madly across the keys. "It shouldn't take long to find why…" Even in her stupor, Quinn heard his voice trail off, his attention gone to the scientific, technological mystery.

Mike's face appeared in her field of vision. "Just try to breathe," he told her quietly. "I'm going to try and relax the muscle."

She managed to nod.

Mike's hands appeared on her bad leg, massaging firmly, coaxing the tension out of her muscles. It was slow going, but eventually there was some relief and Quinn could gasp down a breath. The pain was still intense, but it wasn't unbearable anymore.

"How you doin', Scottie?" Tony asked some time later; she thought it had probably only been a couple of minutes, but it felt much longer.

"Peachy."

"I've found the code that's too blame, so nothing like this will happen again." Tony was only a couple inches from her face, a small smile—his genuine smile—on his face. "I'm sorry," he added.

"S'ok," she managed. "Only a prototype."

Tony barked a laugh and squeezed her arm before disappearing again.

"How'd you find me?" she called.

"Jarvis let us know you were in trouble."

Mike's hands never left Quinn's leg. He kept up a steady stream of chatter about nothing in particular, the way he always had when she'd had bad days. It was comforting. Eventually, she was breathing normally again and though the pain was still there, it had returned to a normal dull ache. She waved Mike away at that point, but he remained close.

"I've fixed the brace, so we're good to go for the morning. Or, I guess, later this morning."

She laughed, turned her face into the table. Her eyes were closed and, now that she was back to normal levels, sleep was pulling at the edges of her consciousness. "Can you promise that won't happen again, Tony? Because I am not keen on experiencing the worst Charley horse of my life again."

"I can promise _that_ won't happen again, yes."

"But other things are still up for grabs?"

"Unfortunately, yes, but like I said, I'll be here. I don't think anything else will happen though. I went through the code twice."

Quinn chased away the thoughts of refusing Tony's help. He'd built the brace and the relief she'd felt when she'd first put it on was worth the pain.

 _It's worth the pain,_ she told herself.

But the tears leaking from her eyes told her she had more of a fight ahead of her.

* * *

 _January 5th, 2012  
_ _New York, New York—Stark Tower, Lobby_

"You've got everything?"

Quinn looked at her bags and nodded before smiling at Coulson. He looped an arm around her shoulders as his eyes slid around the unfinished lobby. It would be spectacular when it was done, there was no question. But Quinn didn't care about that. She leaned into Coulson and closed her eyes. The SHIELD agent was dressed in jeans, boots, and a long-sleeved shirt beneath his parka; he wasn't there as Quinn's boss. He was there as her friend, as her guardian, her father.

"You sure you don't want to stay here a little while longer?" he asked, and not for the first time.

She cracked a small smile. There hadn't been any other incidents like the uber Charley horse, but it hadn't been peaceful either. Tony had felt so bad and been so afraid of something else happening, that he'd hovered around her all day and made sure Jarvis was keeping his "eyes" on her all night. Knowing she was always being watched, even if it was for her benefit, was too much. With the brace working and her leg well on the way to feeling normal again, she wanted to relax. She wanted to focus. She wasn't to get back to work.

Quinn opened her tawny eyes and looked up at Coulson. "No, I don't want to stay. I have Tony's numbers so I can call him if something happens, and I'm sure he'll call to check up on me, if he remembers. I want to go home."

"Home-home, or do you want to crash at my place for a couple days?"

Quinn's smile brightened. "No, _Dad_ , I'll be fine on my own. Though you are free to drop by and bring me food whenever you want."

"Something tells me you're craving Chinese from Mr. Wong's?"

"You know me so well."

Coulson gave her a toothy grin before he hefted her large duffel bag onto her shoulder. "All right, then. Mr. Wong's on me. Whatever you want."

"Don't tell me you were going to leave without saying goodbye, Scottie." Tony stepped out of the elevator, his hands spread to either side of him. "I thought I might be able to get another hug out of you."

Quinn rolled her eyes but she did embrace Tony, squeezing him a little tighter than what was necessary. He grunted and she laughed. "That's for the Charley horse, Stark." She levelled her gaze on him so he could be sure she was joking. She didn't hold the incident against him. "I'll call you if I have any questions."

"Good. I'll call to check on you."

"And I'll call if she can't call," Coulson interjected.

"Ah, Agent Coulson. I should have known." Tony shook Coulson's hand. "You can call if you have any questions about the brace, too," he said. He was well aware of the familial relationship between Coulson and Quinn, and knew that Coulson would be worried about her until she was back to normal. And probably even then.

"I'm sure I will. Thanks for helping, Mr. Stark."

The billionaire waved away the gratitude, though Quinn could have sworn she saw a tinge of pink in his cheeks. "There's still a long road ahead—"

"Tony," Quinn said, cutting him off. "I've been on that road for six months now. I'm used to fighting, and I still want to fight, despite maybe a few minutes of wanting to give up while I was writhing around in pain. What this brace has already done is amazing and, I'm sure you get it—the pain is totally worth it when you know what you're working toward." She paused for a heartbeat, expression thoughtful. "Besides, there was a time right after the accident when no one was sure if I would walk at all, so the pain reminds me that my legs are still working."

Coulson squeezed her shoulder as Tony blinked at her. Quinn was a little surprised by the honest outburst too, but she just smiled and accepted her backpack when Tony lifted it from the floor and handed it to her.

"Well then, I'm glad to help."

"See you later, Tony."

"Bye Scottie, Agent Coulson. Stay off crumbling buildings."

Quinn and Coulson left Stark Tower and climbed into the black SUV Coulson had parked right outside the building; he wasn't technically supposed to park there, but it had only been for a few minutes and being a SHIELD agent had to come with some perks. Tony remained in the lobby until Coulson started the vehicle and pulled into traffic. Quinn sighed and settled into the comfortable leather seat, eager to see her apartment again, to sleep in her bed, to be around her movies and books, her stuff.

"You've got Mike's number right?"

Quinn huffed. "Yes. He'll be coming by Mondays and Fridays to do some PT with me and check my progress, and I can call him whenever I need, but he's got other patients." She screwed up her face. She'd gotten used to Mike's constant presence and it would be weird to not have him around every day. "I can get around on my own no problem now, just as long as I'm not on my feet for too long."

"Just… Don't do too much, too soon, Quinn."

"Don't worry. I've learned my lesson about that. I have no desire to repeat the casts or the intense PT or any of it, really."

She could tell by the look on Coulson's face that he didn't really believe her and, truth be told, she didn't really blame him. While she was aware of what pushing herself too far would get her, she always knew herself well, and knew she was likely to talk herself into something that would put her in harm's way again. She was going to do her best to keep that from happening though.

Quinn looked down at her leg. She was wearing jeans for the first time since Puente Antiguo, and the brace was snug against them. Her fingers skated over the smooth fabric, briefly touched the smooth metal circle on the outside of her thigh.

She wouldn't push herself too hard.

SHIELD was waiting.


End file.
